


Lighten Up and Dress Real Fancy

by kindofspecificstore



Series: Not Your Average High School AU [5]
Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Graduation, Implied/Referenced Underage Drinking, Light Angst, M/M, Nostalgia, Prom, Spring, Summer, Teen Angst, anticipatory grief
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-14 14:21:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28921989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kindofspecificstore/pseuds/kindofspecificstore
Summary: Since returning to outdoor school and getting back together, David is probably the happiest he’s ever felt. Sometimes it’s too much, and he can’t find a way to express it in words. It’s definitely love, but that isn’t something either of them have managed to share with each other. But that’s okay. He thinks that feeling is most likely there. And in a few weeks time, Patrick’s going to be David’s date to the prom. David can hardly wait.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose, Rachel (Schitt's Creek)/Twyla Sands, Stevie Budd & David Rose
Series: Not Your Average High School AU [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1853398
Comments: 93
Kudos: 64





	1. 21 Days

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fishyspots](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fishyspots/gifts).



> Welcome back!!! If you're new here, you might want to read the previous works in this series, but it's also cool if you don't. My life has kind of flipped upside down over the past few months... this instalment doesn't really feel like my best work, but I'm just happy I was able to finish it. 💕
> 
> HAPPY BIRTHDAY, [FISHYSPOTS](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fishyspots/pseuds/fishyspots)! This one is for you! Rachel has not only championed this series from the beginning (and gave me the idea for this fic), beta'd two of the works, and provided inspiration for Patrick's favourite sandwich... she's also an incredible friend. Sending you all the virtual hugs and mozarella sticks.
> 
> Beta'd by the wonderful [Daydreamingduckling](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daydreamingduckling/pseuds/Daydreamingduckling). Title comes from a song that is very near and dear to my heart.

The leaves on the trees of the Brewer’s backyard float and flutter in a gentle breeze, which can be seen from the sliding doors. A record crackles from the living room, the sounds of Clint’s Simon and Garkunkel spilling into the bright and airy kitchen. It’s an easy Saturday afternoon in late May, and David is sitting up at the kitchen counter as Marcy prepares a spread for lunch. Though he’s offered to help twice, Marcy has gently refused him, insisting he take his proper place across from her at the breakfast nook. Patrick has just clambered downstairs after finally reaching satisfaction with his essay, and quickly changed topics when his mother inquired about his progress. 

They spend most weekends since winter trip like this; either at Patrick’s, his family’s country house, or studying with their friend group at Cafe Tropical. David’s phone chimes, and he takes a moment to glance at it while his boyfriend (boyfriend!), all cute and casual in his Elmdale High Athletics sweatpants, explains their final assignment for outdoor education. 

It’s a photo from Stevie: she has a very unimpressed face, while Twyla is smiling brightly from over her shoulder. The text below reads,  _ we made the mistake of going to the bookstore with Rachel.  _ It makes David feel all warm and fuzzy on the inside. His people. At least the girls managed to get Stevie out of the house today- she and her aunt have been fighting a lot lately. He’ll text her back once lunch is made.

“So run this by me one more time?” Marcy asks, gripping the hearty homemade loaf of bread in one hand and sawing through it with another. Patrick grabs the peanut butter and jam out of the fridge, and the Nutella and marshmallows from the cupboard while David watches from his place on the kitchen stool.

“We get assigned our own spot, on the property, and we have to camp there for twenty-four hours. I thought Roland explained it in the email.”

“He did,” Marcy lays out the slices of bread on the counter in front of them, “And you have the graduation ceremony shortly after. But I was asking about the prom part.”

David looks up at her, and they share a conspiring glance. She’s his favourite, he’s decided. Patrick’s great. A lovely boyfriend. 11/10. But Marcy Brewer is what Miss Honey from Matilda wishes she was. Like maybe a cross between Miss Honey and Mrs. Weasley, with the talent of Mary Berry. She passes David a butter knife, and they all get to working on their respective sandwiches. 

“I for one, think it’s exciting,” David says softly, watching the patterns that come from smoothing over swirls of Nutella with a butter knife. He watches Patrick seated on the stool beside him, expertly placing marshmallows on top of his gobs of peanut butter. It’s vile, but he also loves him for it. Loves his affinity for sandwiches, that is. 

“I don’t know what the big deal is,” Patrick shrugs, glancing up at his mom. “We already have the graduation, why do we need a dance? I thought the whole reason we went to outdoor school was to avoid the conventions of regular high school or whatever.”

Marcy rolls her eyes lovingly, pouring hot water from the electric kettle. “Honey, it’s a fun night. You get to celebrate all your hard work and just… let loose.”

“But do I have to?” David watches Patrick pout, ripping into his sandwich. “It’s not like I’m being graded on it,” he says through a mouthful of bread, peanut butter, and marshmallow. All Patrick has cared about lately are his grades.

Marcy pokes her son’s shoulder. “Patrick Brewer, you stop talking with food in your mouth.”

David watches Patrick smirk back at her. “But I can’t, I’m a hungry hungry hippo,” he teases before ripping into his sandwich again. David admires their gentle mother and son banter. Though he gets along with his own mother, Patrick’s relationship with Marcy seems much less… draining? And it’s only gotten easier with time. 

An easy silence falls over the kitchen. Marcy’s gaze drifts over to David while she takes a sip of her tea. 

“You know you boys are lucky. Ten years ago you probably wouldn’t have been allowed to go together. Can you imagine?”

“Mom!”

David chuckles. Leave it to the director of the Elmdale Civic Museum to start schooling her son on queer history. But Marcy just smiles along with him. 

They’ve come a long way. Ever since David and Patrick got back together on winter trip, David was welcomed into their home almost immediately. Marcy and Clint were nice before, but now they go almost out of their way to make sure David feels comfortable in their home. And he does. They even started buying Nutella just for him. That, and Patrick has become more and more used to showing affection for David in front of them.

He remembers those awkward, almost painful times in sophomore year, where Patrick would keep at least a metre between them. He would make a beeline for the treehouse, wanting to be out of sight as soon as possible. Now, here they are at the kitchen counter. It’s a simple thing, and yet to David it means the world. 

He’s been trying to hint to Patrick for weeks now about just how excited he is for prom. It’s  _ not _ regular high school prom- not some disgusting under-the-sea balloon monstrosity in the smelly gym at Elmdale High. This is outdoor school prom- where they get to design and hand-make everything. It's the pinnacle of rustic charm. David has been trying to downplay just how excited he is about it. 

They make their way outside to the treehouse, sandwiches and mugs of tea in hand. 

“Plus,” Patrick adds, reaching a tone of exasperation. “It’s right after solos! I don’t want to go to prom all sweaty and smelling like campfire!”

“I like when your hair smells like campfire,” David says offhand, staring at his sandwich and thinking of the beautiful curls Patrick has finally started growing back out. He feels a blush seep into his cheeks. There’s no sound coming from beside him, so he dares to look up. 

Even though they’re walking and have their hands full, Patrick still manages to gaze back at David with a stupid pouty look on his face. (Patrick is still learning how to take a compliment.) 

David rolls his eyes, but he knows his face is soft and smiley. “Just climb up the ladder,” he gestures to the tree before them. Patrick breaks out into a grin and places their food on the tray, then expertly makes his way up the wooden planks. David crosses his arms, watching him. If you’d have told him six months ago his favourite way to spend a Saturday would be in his boyfriend Patrick’s treehouse, he would’ve laughed. (Or started crying, depending on the night.) His brain flashes with memories of New York; drunk on a school night, being pulled into an alleyway and pressed up against a cold brick wall to make out with- the mere thought of Sebastian makes him want to vomit. Luckily, Patrick’s much better than that.

Patrick Brewer is selfless and kind, loves his parents, goes on passionate rants about single-use plastics, and would rename the stars just for David. (He has, many times. That’s one of the benefits of having a constellation projector.) Since returning to outdoor school and getting back together, David is probably the happiest he’s ever felt. Sometimes it’s too much, and he can’t find a way to express it in words. It’s definitely love, but that isn’t something either of them have managed to share with each other. But that’s okay. He thinks that feeling is most likely there. And in a few weeks time, Patrick’s going to be David’s date to the prom. David can hardly wait.


	2. 15 Days

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot to mention my usual posting schedule is every other day, but sometimes I break that rule and post more frequently if I feel like it. Oh and chapters alternate between David and Patrick's POV.

The last month of school feels unexpectedly rushed. There are exams to study for, summer jobs to think about, and shelters they have to learn how to build for their overnight solos. Lunch time becomes a moment of solace, when they get to just  _ be  _ with each other by walking through the woods or lying on top of one of the picnic tables in the main field. Somehow, the other students still insist on playing capture the flag is the best use of their time, and  _ sometimes  _ Patrick convinces David to join in.

“Okay, okay everybody pass it around,” Miguel shoves the baking bowl stolen from the kitchen into Rachel’s hands. They’re all sitting in the fireside lounge over this lunch hour, a meeting decided upon by both classes. It’s taken long enough to come to a consensus with the rules, and Patrick has to double check his business essay before class with Ronnie.

Rachel nudges him from her place next to him on one of the meditation pillows. Twyla sits on her other side, strumming the chords to _Leaving on a Jet Plane._ “Your turn PB,” she winks at him. “Just make sure David knows you're still his number one.” 

Patrick snorts, taking the bowl from her. He looks at David from across the circle, who is only half interested in what’s going on. David is invested in this prom business, something that Patrick still can’t quite grasp. But today his attention is divided, working on one of his final drawings on the sketchbook in his lap. He of course looks up to watch Patrick draw a name out of the bowl.

The class decided, for the sake of fairness, that everyone would be assigned some one to prompose to. That way no one would feel left out. Patrick likes it this way. He can create some sort of grand romantic & cheesy gesture without too many strings attached to it. If he were asking David he’d be pulling at his hair, trying to find a way to make it absolutely perfect. David deserved (and expected) nothing less. 

He sends a wink David’s way, and is pleased to see it still makes him blush. Making David Rose smile just so happens to be one of his favourite things. He unfurls the hand-selected scrap of paper to see _ Rachel  _ written in delicate scrawl. This would be easy. 

The bowl continues to be passed around to everyone. When it gets to David, Patrick watches him try to keep his face composed and hide his tiny piece of paper in the folds of his sketchbook. It’s stupid, but he really wants to be promposed to by David. David’s love is spoken more in things like physical touch, in subtle gestures and quality time. Now that Patrick is fully out, he wants to share and show off his relationship as much as possible. 

He catches David’s smile from across the room. “ _ Not telling you _ ,” David mouths to him. Patrick rolls his eyes. Maybe, just maybe he’ll wear him down. Everyone chats excitedly amongst themselves, debating on ideas and courses of action. At least he already knows what he’s wearing- David made sure to show him that mood board as soon as the prom aesthetic was decided upon. Patrick might not be as excited as David is for prom, but he does love his classmates a lot. His eyes scan the room, admiring the laughter and easy smiles, the legs thrown across each other’s laps and the carefree sprawling on yoga mats. It hits him all at once. This unique feeling of belonging. What if he’ll never find it after they graduate? There’s only so much time left before… No. Nope. He’s not thinking about college right now. He’s not going to let his mind wander down that dark path. Their friend group made an agreement. No college talk allowed once they all accepted their offers.

The fireside door swings open tentatively, and Ray’s head pokes into the room. He looks around for someone, the class falling to a hush.

“So sorry kids, you can carry on what you’re doing. Just remember I want butts in seats in ten minutes. We have an exciting announcement in English class today,” Ray wiggles his eyebrows. “Actually now that I factor my coming in here, it’s probably more like eight. Anyway, Patrick, can I have a moment?”

Patrick nods and scrambles to his feet. The other students are past the point of teasing Patrick for getting in trouble- besides the fact that Ray is one of the nicest people on the planet. He closes the door to the fireside lounge, not before giving David a wink and a smile, and follows Ray down the main hall towards the English classroom.

“I wanted to check in and see if you needed extra time on your essay for Business and Sustainability, Patrick.”

“Um… yeah. That’d be nice? I finished it, but it never hurts to go over it again I guess.”

“I know I’m no longer teaching you, and it brings me great sadness of course, but if you need help with your work for Ronnie I am always here. You know what I’ve told you about utilizing your resources. That’s me,” Ray smiles and shrugs his shoulders. “A resource. You’re going to need to do that when you go off to school, Patrick. People won’t always know you need help. It’s part of your-”

“Part of my learning disability and I need to be my own advocate, yes Ray,” Patrick finishes for him. He has an incredible amount of respect for Ray. He was the first teacher to truly notice Patrick’s struggles, and had approached his parents back in sophomore year with the suggestion of getting him tested. That said, he doesn’t always enjoy discussing stuff like this when he could be spending one in the handful of last lunch hours with his friends.

Ray pats his shoulder in sympathy, then ducks into the English classroom. Patrick continues towards the coat racks. With the creak of the doors to the lounge, the main hall echoes with the voices of his classmates. The art section lazily makes their way to Ray, while his fellow business classmates race to put their shoes on. Ronnie has a low tolerance for latecomers, sloppy powerpoints, and speaking out in class. (Thankfully, Patrick is only ever guilty of one of the three.) 

Patrick goes to lace up his hiking shoes and feels a firm hand press on his shoulder, then a kiss to his temple. “See you on the bus,” David whispers in his ear. He looks up to see his boyfriend quickly turn around and watches him walk briskly into the classroom.

“You coming, Wonderbread?” Comes a dry voice from the doorway. Stevie is standing there watching him with a raised eyebrow. Patrick rolls his eyes at the unfortunate nickname Ronnie gave him. 

“Yup!” He jumps to his feet and follows Stevie outside into the fresh air. They trail behind the rest of their classmates towards the equipment shed, where they’ll be loading onto their bikes for a tour of one of the earth homes in the neighbourhood. Patrick has been very excited for this bike ride. The report they have to write afterwards? Not so much.

“Picked the best sappy serenade for your promposal already?” she asks while weaving her hair into an easy braid.

Patrick bumps his hip gently into hers. “How’d you know?” he teases.

Stevie just shrugs. As a card-carrying member of David Rose’s emotional support circle, she’s gotten quite used to their couple antics. (And often reminds them they wouldn’t have gotten back together after David’s return from New York if it wasn’t for her.)

“I hate prom,” she says matter-of-factly, “Too many expectations, other people shoving their relationships in your face-”

“Wait did that thing with Emir not work out?”

“He said he wanted to show me off to his friends. Who does that? Can’t we just… play Mario Kart and make out?”

Patrick winces. “I’m sorry Stevie.”

“It’s fine,” Stevie grumbles. “I just want a really good friend who’s also good at celebrating my body.”

“Makes sense to me,” he nods, going through the list of guys he knows at Elmdale High. “What about-”

“If you say  _ Jake _ one more time--”

Patrick almost cackles. 

“Budd, Brewer, something funny?” Ronnie calls out as she saunters up to them with their bikes.

“No ma’am, Stevie was just-”

Ronnie shakes her head. “Get your helmet, Brewer.”

Patrick grabs his helmet from the labelled hooks in the equipment shed. The class sets out with Ronnie at the helm, a steady fleet that departs from the gravel parking lot, onto Main Street, then takes a detour so they can ride on the trails. Patrick breathes in the fresh earth and feels the gentle freeze whistle past his ears. It’s so beautiful here. Notions of essays and promposals slowly drift behind him as his thoughts start to veer towards their upcoming solo trips. Now  _ this  _ is what Patrick has been looking forward to. 

For all that Patrick can’t write an essay, he can certainly build a shelter in the woods. He tries to imagine all the possible spots in the property; the forests and grasses and creekside that they’ve been exploring for months. As he moves his bike pedals in consistent motion, he dreams up the massive bonfire he’ll build for himself, the trees he’ll get to climb, and the cold, fresh creek water he can sink his feet into while teaching himself new chord progressions on the guitar. 

He follows his classmates off the trail and up the hill towards the location of today’s field trip. As they all dismount their bikes on the gravel driveway, Darlene steps out of her front door and waves pleasantly, welcoming the class to her home. She has red hair just like Rachel’s.  _ Rachel.  _ Patrick sighs as he unclips his bike helmet, remembering he has to come up with some cute-yet-dumb thing to ask his best friend to prom with. Godammit. 


	3. 7 Days

After all the late night study parties at Cafe Tropical, there’s only one exam left to go. And thank god for that. It’s the history portion of Ray’s art class, so David will probably definitely be fine. Luckily he’s good enough at school. It doesn’t take much for him to study, but it does take a bit more effort to help Patrick, which David is of course happy to do. But now can finally return his attention to more important things. (More important things as in prom.) In the days leading up to solos, they spend the afternoons preparing for their final days of outdoor school. So naturally, David is washing maple syrup bottles in the industrial kitchen sink with pruning fingers. He doesn’t know why he’s doing this, other than he asked for glass jars and this is what Ray provided him with. Maple syrup season is long gone. Stevie stands beside him, following David’s orders to vigorously rub off the soaked labels with a steel wool sponge.

“This is ridiculous,” she mutters to him.

“Mhm,” David replies, ceremoniously dumping more dish soap into the sink. “So how’s the motel?” He tries to change the topic while keeping his hands busy.

Stevie’s been assisting her Aunt Maureen for over a year now. It’s an easy job, and for all that Stevie hates people, she’s good at working the front desk. 

“Maureen found this guy on the internet,” Stevie mentions offhand while inspecting the gooey water-soaked labels that have stuck to her nail beds, “He’s all the way in Saskatchewan, but she says it feels like true love.”

“Ew.”

“Yeah,” she sighs noncommittally. “Honestly if I weren’t so close to graduation, I’d be emancipating.”

“Well for what it’s worth, from what my mom has told me about Clifton Sparks, emancipation is a long and winded process.” 

He watches Stevie bite her lip and place a clean maple syrup bottle on a tea towel to dry. Stevie has a knack for dropping bombs with a stunning air of casualty. They don’t talk about family stuff all that often, but David is glad that they can. He’s the only one Stevie can open up to without feeling under a microscope, or washed over in concern. She chooses the moment of comfortable silence to switch to lighter topics. 

“So what did you think about Rachel’s cookie?” Her tone now sounds teasing, which is even more frustrating.

“Was it romantic and cheesy? Yes,” He begins to scrub at the glass bottles with more energy. “Did Patrick know what he was doing, _wafting_ that thing right in front of my face? Also yes.” He turns to face Stevie, who is wearing a glorious, knowing smile.

“I’m sorry, are you feeling jealous right now?”

David shakes his head.

“Because to me it seems like you want Patrick to give you a giant cookie with  _ Prom?  _ in giant pink icing.”

“No I don’t.”

“Yes you do.”

“I do not! That’s the kind of thing someone would eat when they’re sad and alone and watching the Downton Christmas special!”

“This seems like a very particular circumstance. Are we drawing from personal experience here or…”

Before David can sharply interrupt Stevie’s conclusions, the door to outside swings open to reveal Patrick, in a forest green t-shirt and the edges of his hair pressed with sweat.

“How’s it going in here?” he says with an abundance of enthusiasm, wrapping an arm around David and kissing his cheek.

Stevie rolls her eyes at him. “Your boyfriend is making me clean maple syrup bottles to use as some sort of decoration for prom, and I kind of hate him for it.”

Patrick frowns, looking at the sink overflowing with bubbles and glass bottles. Something twists in David’s stomach. Something close to embarrassment. He knows he should probably be out with some of the other students, prepping for solos, but they had the option to do other chores and David really needs to do this one. There’s no way he’s taking all these home to wash them in the kitchen sink. Twyla and Tennessee are out foraging wildflowers to dry, so he can be inside preparing the centrepieces. To David, it’s the perfect use of his time, but to Patrick, it’s probably a finicky task with a childish purpose. Sure, David could be out chopping wood (he can wield an axe just as well as Patrick, thank you very much), but this is what has his attention right now.

Patrick must catch the worry in David’s face, because he starts rubbing his back and whispering in a low voice, “David it’s gonna be fine.”

But all David can see is a sink full of yet to be cleaned glass bottles, so he grabs a sponge and gets his hands busy.

“No it won’t. When I said glass, I said jars. Not leftover maple syrup bottles.” He lets out his embarrassment and frustration on the persistent labels, slowly watching the  _ Schitt’s Creek Maple Syrup Festival  _ fade away. (He has a commemorative bottle at home, dated and everything, so he doesn’t feel bad peeling the labels off the rest of them.)

Patrick leans on the sink, watching him scrub. “You can’t fit a tea light into a maple syrup bottle?” he teases, alluding to one of the reference images on David’s prom mood board. (Patrick should be honoured David even let him look at it.)

“No!” David doesn’t look up from his work at the sink, “That is unfathomable!”

“Wow big word there. Listen, David. I think you just need to-”

“If you say relax-" David turns to look at Patrick, gripping the steel wool sponge tightly in hand. 

Patrick recedes a little. “Why don’t you come help chop wood? Y’know, for the solos we’re supposed to be going on?? The axe work might help you expel some of that extra energy,” he suggests. (or tries to.)

“But this needs to be done!” David gestures forcefully at the sink, hand swiping through a pile of bubbles.

“Why?” Patrick softens his voice and gently reaches out to squeeze David’s arms. 

David sighs, giving in to his grounding touch but feeling too vulnerable to look him directly in the eye. “Because it needs to be perfect… I don’t want to go to prom at Elmdale High in some tacky ballroom with an overused theme.” At that, he sees Patrick’s mouth lift up at the corners. “I want to do it here. This place means something to me… and it’s also the first time my parents will be seeing it.”

Patrick wraps David in his arms, paying no mind to the sudsy glass bottle in between them. David inhales through his nose, taking in the sweat and whisper of mint shower gel that is Patrick Brewer. Something in his chest just melts, all the tension from moments ago falling away.

“I can't believe you promposed to Rachel with a cookie,” he mumbles. 

Patrick chuckles, then a throat clears from outside of their little sacred bubble. “He won’t admit he’s jealous,” Stevie says flatly.

“You know I’d be promposing to you if we didn’t draw names.” Patrick rubs his back, refusing to let David go just yet. Maybe it’s something they both needed today. “And besides,” Patrick adds, “Ted loved your drawing of the Prom-eranian.” David shudders. Patrick just  _ had _ to throw his own assigned promposal back at him.

Stevie throws them a wink before taking the clean bottles and backing out of the room, providing them with a bit more space. For all that she wrinkles her nose and tells them how gross they are, David knows she prefers seeing them happy. 

With some coaxing from Patrick, they tidy up the work-in-progress together before he leads David out the door and towards the parking lot. On the other side of the tree-line, Heather is mucking the chicken coop while Ted takes them out for a walk. They wave, but David makes a quick beeline for the wood pile before he’s roped into chicken wrangling again. (That was  _ not  _ a fun day.) Felix nods hello from the humble pile of logs before they take a giant swing and split one into two fresh pieces. Patrick squeezes David’s hand before clambering onto the grass to join Felix, knees pressed firmly into his sweatshirt, a makeshift cushion. 

David bites his lip and watches as Patrick puts his work gloves back on and expertly picks his axe out of the log beside him. He lines up a new piece of wood, making sure he’s going with the grain, then brings his arms up above him, and comes down with a hard, clean chop. David could watch him do this all day.

“We could use some help chopping tinder, David” Patrick smirks while he goes to add the freshly-split wood to his growing pile. David rolls his eyes, knowing Patrick was enjoying being watched. 

And Patrick is right. It does help David get out a little bit of the buzzing in his brain. It feels good, doing something that will break a sweat. They continue building the wood pile side by side, Felix included. Afternoons like this aren’t necessarily David’s favourite - he prefers when they have class inside and Ray reads aloud while they sketch. But there’s something about everyone working together, working towards something that means a lot to them. It makes time go faster, which is usually great, but not when it’s this close to the end of the year. There’s only so much time he has left to knock everything off his list of prom preparations, let alone this stupid solo assignment. Then suddenly Bob the Bus Driver pulls into the parking lot, which is their signal for the end of the day. Days that are unfortunately becoming fewer and fewer. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> maybe one day i'll write a missing scene from when David learned how to chop wood... for now, enjoy this lil glimpse of lumberjack!pat ;)


	4. 3 Days

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idk what to say other than thanks for sticking around ❤️ i have a had a Week, and almost forgot to post today.

Patrick watches from across the booth while Rachel parses through the pages of his paper, now returned with Ronnie’s comments and a mark in purple pen. Today’s baseball practice ended unexpectedly early, so he’s freshly showered and reluctantly going over this stupid final. Patrick holds his head in one hand, while the other gently taps out the rhythm of Cafe Tropical’s song selections. 

“It’s not as bad as you think,” Rachel looks up at him.

He sighs, aimlessly dragging around the tea bag in his mug.  “You can be honest,” Patrick frowns. 

Rachel used to help him out with his schoolwork a lot, but now that life has gotten busier for the both of them and they're in separate streams of outdoor school, it’s become less and less of an occurrence. Luckily, Patrick didn’t have anything besides baseball practice earlier in the day, and Rachel’s mom magically has a day off so someone else is watching Parker. Usually the whole gang piles into a booth once Twyla clocks out, but today’s a wig cleaning day so David is forced to stay home and help his mother. And this time Stevie’s been roped in. (The Roses have taken an odd liking to her, but Patrick has never questioned it.) 

Rachel slides the paper over to Patrick, her smile soft and kind in a genuine way. “I think it would’ve helped if you had gone to see Ray like he offered but-”

“I wanted to try and do it myself this time!” Patrick interrupts, sounding more passionate than he intends to come off.

“I know,” Rachel keeps her voice gentle and even, “ _ But,  _ what I was going to say is you did a really good job doing it all on your own.”

“Thank you,” he leans back into the booth and crosses his arms, to which Rachel rolls her eyes.

“You know that you don’t have to get straight A’s to get a degree, right? You’re going to be fine.”

Now it’s Patrick’s turn to roll his eyes. Rachel shakes her head, smiling at their antics, but quickly becomes distracted by the cute waitress that has sidled up to their table.

“You guys okay?” Twyla asks, sliding a fresh earl grey and a meadow harvest smoothie on the table, unprompted.

Rachel squeezes her arm in thanks. “Can you please tell Patrick that he holds himself up to an unfairly high standard, and he is still going to be a successful person no matter what he decides to do with his life?”

Twyla raises a knowing eyebrow and goes to take the empty glassware from their first round of drinks. “Would you also like a reminder?” she asks Rachel, “I thought I said some pretty similar things in the song I wrote you last week.” Patrick watches as Rachel blushes and looks down at the table, fingers moving to pick at its edges. He feels smug knowing that it’s also hard for Rachel to hear the truth sometimes, even when the truth is loving. 

Before leaving to attend to the other tables, Twyla drops a kiss on Rachel's head. She turns to Patrick with a shrug, “Who knows, maybe one day you’ll get an MBA. Own your own business,” she suggests.

“Thanks Twy,” Patrick lets his arms fall to his lap. That would certainly be nice, but it feels so far away it’s hard to picture. Rachel has always known what she wants to do. She’s become such a rock for her younger brother, it seems almost obvious to Patrick. He’s jealous, in a way. He wishes he knew what he wanted as much as his friends did. 

“Rach, when did life get so real?”

Rachel shakes her head, smiling back at him. “It’s a mystery,” she sighs, then goes for more meadow harvest. 

Patrick pushes away thoughts of college, deliberately sliding his essay to the edge of the table closest to the wall. He asks Rachel how she’s progressing with the giant cookie, and thanks to her younger brother, who ate all the parts that didn’t have pink icing, it’s long gone. They laugh together as the minute hand on the old clock on the wall slowly makes a full circle round. Rachel talks about Parker’s project he did on the mesozoic era that she had to help him with, Patrick recalls the last Friday night dinner he went to at Ray and Charles’, where Ray and his mom started quoting Margaret Atwood at each other. It’s easy, just as it’s always been. It won't come fall, when their friend group will be spread out in different places and starting new things. At least they have all summer to do this together, Patrick thinks. 

Rachel pesters him about where his solo spot is, but he refuses to tell her because he knows she will try and sneak by and visit once night falls. She proudly tells him her location, which is, of course, on the other side of the creek. They talk through the food they’re planning to bring and the clothes they’re packing (from the list that David has been blissfully avoiding in favour of prom preparations), what shelter technique they’re going to use, and bet on how high each of them can build a bonfire. 

“I’m excited to see what David does,” Rachel says devilishly while finishing off her smoothie.

“He’s actually a pretty decent firebuilder,” Patrick defends.

Rachel shakes her head, “No, no I mean for the graduation ceremony before prom. He told you he got valedictorian, right? That was Ray’s special announcement to the class.”

Patrick feels his eyes bulge out of his sockets. “What?”

“So I take it, that's a no. Either that or I forgot wasn’t supposed to tell you,” she cautiously slides her empty glass towards the edge of the table.

That would be a hard no, which is out of the ordinary seeing as he and David talk about practically everything. Patrick’s eyebrows furrow as he takes the last sip of his tea. 

“He did not,” Patrick feels his jaw clench. He reaches for his phone in his back pocket, then types out a message to David.

_ Valedictorian, huh? _

The dancing dots show up immediately.  Patrick receives a picture of David in a very Sia-esque wig, wincing at the camera.

_ Ray swore the art class to secrecy.  _

Patrick bites his lip, feeling a mixture of pride, fondness, and shock. (And perhaps a bit of inadequacy.) But at least Rachel brought it up after they were finished talking about his paper. 

He turns his phone to Rachel to show her David’s wig of choice, and she bursts into giggles. She pulls out her own phone to thumb through her photos and find the pictures from when they all helped with wig cleaning last month, and they both start to laugh uncontrollably. 

Once Twyla’s shift is over, they all hop into Rachel’s Volkswagen and she drops him back off at home. Patrick spends the rest of the afternoon on his college’s website, braving the link that leads him to  _ Accessibility Centre: Resources for Students with Disabilities.  _ Maybe he  _ can _ do this. Maybe he needs to find someone like Rachel-- not a replacement friend, but some one who will help him work through a paper and remind him he’s not a worthless human being. He’s deep into researching academic accommodations and tutoring when his phone chimes with a notification.

A text from David.  _ Are you mad I didn’t tell you? _

Patrick looks at the clock, realizing just how long he left David on read.  _ Shit.  _

_ Sorry I went into hyperfocus.  _ He promptly types back.  _ I’m not mad at all. I’m so proud of you.  _

Patrick’s fingers however over the keyboard. He has to take a breath and stop himself for the three words that would come next. The three words that he somehow hasn’t managed to say to David quite yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading!


	5. Tomorrow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Probably going to speed up my publishing because it's the weekend and I do what I want 😘 Prepare yourselves for some Anxious David feels

The forest is still with the exception of the subtle rustle of the leaves. It’s probably just a squirrel. The sun hovers over the treeline from across the creek, so David can generally guess what time it is, but he still has no idea. He doesn’t like not knowing. Much to his dismay, he’s spent most of his afternoon building his shelter. He’d rather  _ not _ be touching sticks and tree branches and cedar boughs, but the fear of freezing to death overnight has lit a manic fire in him to keep going and make this thing absolutely indestructible. 

There’s a giant fallen tree that’s a part of his solo spot, the gnarled and muddied roots coming up into the creek bed. David has decidedly built his shelter a few metres back against the tree, ensuring that the ground below him is dry enough to sleep on. He still can’t believe he has to sleep on the ground. _Ew._ He’s been peacefully pushing that part out of his brain in favour of table layouts and the beautiful archway they crafted that will lead out into the field after the graduation ceremony, so to say this part of outdoor school caught him by surprise is an unfortunate understatement.

As the sun sparkles over the trickling water, dipping lower behind the trees, David is as satisfied as he can possibly be. He’s followed Roland’s instructions to a tee, but the tarp in between the layers of tree branches is his own design. If he was perhaps feeling a bit more adventurous, he could hoist himself up onto the giant fallen tree. He could scale down it to watch the sunset and try to recreate it in the pages of his sketchbook. Instead, David works to build a strong fire that will keep him going past sundown. He’s in a fairly shaded area, so god knows it’s going to get cold. And fast. 

A heavy feeling starts to sink into David’s chest, his thoughts starting to worry about just how much time he spent building his shelter, when he could’ve easily gotten a fire going the first thing in the afternoon and would just have to periodically feed it new logs. His hands start to shake, so he’s gripping the matches more tightly, so they break every time he strikes the box. The more he tries to light a match, the more they break, and the less matches he has, which means he could wake up freezing in the middle of the night and not have any matches left to build a fire and slowly start contracting hypothermia. 

David’s breathing becomes increasingly shallow as he drives himself into a panic that is absolutely realistic and very well plausible and why is he even fucking here. He lets out a noise of frustration and helplessness, throwing the matchbox down to the ground and covering his face in his hands.  _ I can’t do this _ , he thinks as the tips of his fingers - his dirty fingers that have been touching dead tree carcasses all day and probably have mud caked under the nails - reach his hairline. He tells himself he’s not going to cry. Valedictorians don’t cry. 

Valedictorian. He still can’t believe he has to get up in front of his classmates and all their families tomorrow afternoon and make a fucking speech. He was  _ planning _ on writing his speech while he was out here, but as he should’ve predicted, it takes David Rose twice the time to do anything outdoorsy as it would for anyone else in his class. How can he be Valedictorian of  _ Outdoor School _ if he can’t light a fucking campfire??? 

His palms are pressed firmly to his eyes, willing the tears to stay inside their ducts, when he feels a gentle hand on his shoulder. 

“David,” Ronnie says in a quiet and even voice, “You’re going to be okay. Try taking a deep breath in.”

David tries. Either he’s hallucinating, or Ronnie heard his desperate cries from the teacher’s campsite all the way in the centre of the forest. That would be embarrassing. _Fuck._ What if the whole class has heard him? He focuses on getting the air down to the bottom of his lungs, which right now is a herculean task. After his first shaky exhale, he feels Ronnie’s hand leave his shoulder, then the gentle, easy strike of a match. His breathing evens out as he hears the rusting of paper and scraping of tinder. He forces himself to slowly lift his palms from his eyes. 

The forest is dimly lit by the last whispers of daylight, and Ronnie’s face flickers and glows from the small orange pile flaming in front of them. She glances up from feeding the fire to smile thinly at David. “You should take some water,” she encourages gently.

David nods, before shakily reaching over from his Swell bottle that was discarded on the ground earlier. 

“Thank you,” he manages to say after forcing the cold liquid past his lips.

She nods. “Of course. We’re all taking turns doing rounds every couple hours, but if you find yourself at a complete loss, just blow your whistle.”

David purses his lips and reaches over to grab a log to start building on a lean-to formation. “Will I be-” he clears his throat, “will I be docked marks because I couldn’t-” 

Ronnie interrupts him with a shake of her head. “That’s not fair to you.”

David breathes a sigh of relief, making his hands busy by adding another log. Thank goodness for Ronnie. 

Late into the night, David lies in his shelter. He’s as comfortable as he can be thanks to all the cedar boughs he put down on the ground, but his thoughts are what’s keeping him up. Besides paying insanely close attention to every sound in the forest, he goes over the extensive mental lists he has of what needs to get done during setup tomorrow, and drafts upon drafts of the speech he has to give. Plus there’s this buzzing voice of his mother in his ear, counting  _ 5 6 7 8 _ and coaching him through her unnecessarily long vocal warm up.

There’s a sharp snap of a stray branch from outside his little lean-to, which causes his entire body to freeze. He’d make a noise, but if it’s a bear then the bear would certainly know there’s a human inside this pile of logs. Damn him for choosing an orange tarp. It probably stands out in the dark.

“David?” a familiar voice whispers.

No. nope. David must be dreaming. There’s no way his thoughts would spiral so much that he has to pretend Patrick is here to comfort him.

He hears a few more footsteps, then a voice at the hollow of his structure. “Hey,” it calls softly.

Before knows it, his space is being crowded around by a warm body. Blinded by the night, he feels stubborn hands pat down his sleeping bag, trying to find where he is. Then he feels a kiss on his temple.

Patrick. He’s here.

“What are you doing?” David whispers.

Patrick grunts as he struggles to line up his own body with David’s without breaking the shelter’s frame. 

“Sleeping next to you, what does it look like?” 

David bites his lip and covers his face, though Patrick probably can’t see how overcome he is by a line like that. “Why aren’t you at your own solo spot?” (Not that David’s complaining.)

He feels Patrick’s arm wrap around his middle and hold tight. It's a familiar, comforting feeling. One that brings him right back to those mornings on winter trip. David feels the muscles in his body relax while Patrick presses his face into his shoulder and mumbles something.

“Sorry what now?”

He hears Patrick inhale. “I got lonely.”  _ Oh.  _ “And I missed you.”

“Patrick Brewer do you _know_ how much trouble we could get in?? And I already struggled to light my fire this afternoon!” David whisper-yells.

Patrick chuckles, “Well you can light my fire anytime.”

“What does that even-” David can’t get out the rest of his sentence before Patrick claps his hand over his mouth. 

“Shh,” he whispers into David’s ear, “I think I hear something.” 

It’s only the distant chatter of Ronnie and Roland, debating something about last night’s baseball game. Once their voices pass, Patrick goes to move his hand, but not before David can press a kiss into his palm.

“You sure you’re not mad about the whole valedictorian thing?” he asks, tentatively. Thank goodness for being shrouded in darkness.

Patrick’s arm around his middle tightens, rubbing soothing patterns up and down over his sleeping bag. “Of course not, David. Why would I be mad?”

David sighs, “Because this whole school is your thing. You’re like really good at it. And here I am, this dumb as fuck city kid--”

“You are not dumb,”

“I’m not finished. This city kid, who can’t build a proper campfire or paddle a canoe without spiralling, is somehow. Decidedly. The person who represents the class? How can this not be something you want??”

Patrick drops a kiss on David’s shoulder. “I don’t really care,” he confesses. “I’m good at some parts of it sure, but I barely scraped by in Ronnie’s classes. We’re both good and bad at different things, David.”

“But there’s no part of you that’s going to regret this later? You’re not just saying that because-”

“I think you are working yourself up right now, when what you should be doing is getting some sleep.”

David whines. “I know.”

“You’ve put in so much work to make our graduation beautiful, and I’m very excited to see what you’ve done.”

“Thank you,” he whispers back to Patrick. It feels good to have that recognition. It feels good to breathe into Patrick, to be protected by him.

All he can hear is the trickling of the creek and the chirping of crickets, and he feels a shaky intake of breath from Patrick. “I know it seems like this whole school is my thing, but I’m really scared of starting college,” Patrick confesses. 

David squeezes the hand that’s holding him in close and gives a hum of encouragement. 

“I feel like I work so hard,” Patrick’s whispered voice cracks, “but it’s never enough.”

David shakes his head in fervent disagreement. “Let’s put that thought back into the box.” After a tired chuckle from Patrick, David tilts his head back and whispers, “Patrick Brewer, you will always be enough.”

Then he feels a _ thank you _ in his ear soft kisses press into his hair and neck, allowing him to breathe more deeply and for his eyelids to flutter closed. And just before he reaches the depths of sleep, David thinks he hears a whisper,  _ I love you, _ but that could also be the wind. Or a dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompromprompromprompromprom!!!!!
> 
> as always, thanks for reading!


	6. The Day Of

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> promprompromprompromprom (almost)

Patrick rubs a towel over his head as he walks out of the shower room. Whosoever idea it was to have their outdoor education final, graduation ceremony, and prom all in the same forty-eight hours clearly didn’t put enough thought into it. It was almost comical walking by the south cabin, seeing all the girls crowded around the bathroom mirrors and their dresses and suits hanging off the bunk beds. Thankfully, with a simple pressed button up and chinos, he doesn’t need that much time to get ready. There was only so much time he had (after returning to his own solo spot when he woke up with the birds) once the class regrouped, and then had to construct the lanterns for after the graduation ceremony. He hasn’t had the chance to be alone with David since, and he can’t stop thinking about last night. 

He told David he loved him, to which he received no reply. Either David was asleep, or he said it too quietly. Patrick can’t decide. He doesn’t necessarily regret it- it just slipped out. But he can’t help replaying the conversation over and over in his head.

He ignores everything to the right of his periphery, where the grass dips into a gully that they’re having their outdoor dance in. (David refused to get an outdoor tent, so everyone is crossing their fingers for clear weather.)

He walks over to the main field to see two very familiar faces milling about the garden, pointing and prodding at his class’s pride and joy.

“Hey you guys,” he calls out and waves with his free hand. The other is holding his toiletry bag and quick-dry towel. 

Marcy and Clint look up, all smiles, and move in for hugs. 

“Your garden looks wonderful, Patrick,” Marcy coos. Patrick chuckles and points out the Swiss chard he struggled to create a pesticide for. 

His father claps him on the shoulder. “Are you excited for tonight?” Clint grins, eyes dancing. 

Marcy promptly swats his arm. “Honey, stop.”

Patrick is a little confused. “Why are you more excited than I am?”

“Moira Rose was just announced as the next Clara Mandrake,” Clint whispers like it’s the most salacious gossip he’s ever heard. 

Patrick groans and cranes his neck to the sky. “Daaaaadd. Please do not embarrass me in front of my boyfriend’s parents.”

Clint gasps. “That’s right, she’s going to be here tonight!”

“Dad!”

“Okay, okay. I will refrain from mentioning my job-”

“It’s not a job”

“-moderating the Sunrise Bay subreddit.”

Marcy smiles and shakes her head. “Regardless of your father’s ulterior motives, I think we should head inside, don’t you?”

“You sure? You guys are kinda early.” Patrick is hesitant, until he notices the eager and loving looks on his parents faces. They want to see his school. They want to see more of this second home he’s had, where he and his friends have created something of a found family together. They want to share this piece of his life with him. And he kind of wants that too. So he leads them up to the doors of the main cabin. 

The energy inside is at an excited hum. Everyone is freshly showered and nicely dressed, pulling tables across the room to line up with David’s seating chart.  _ David.  _ His boyfriend is nowhere in sight, probably setting up the outdoor component Patrick was so dead set on avoiding when he was walking out of the shower room. Twyla is at the centre of it all, at a table heaping with flowers fresh and dry that she’s expertly weaving into crowns. Everyone in the class gets one, and she's incredibly excited about it. Ray is doing a combination of trying to follow David’s binder full of instructions, while flitting about to each student to share his joy and ooh and aah over their fancy dress. When he turns around to see Patrick with his parents, he gasps.

“Brewers!” The binder nearly flies from his clutches. “You’re here!” Ray opens his arms and greets Marcy in a hug. Patrick seems to forget how close the two of them are until they’re conveniently in the same space- those damn farmer’s markets. 

“Good to see you Ray,” Clint smiles, watching on as he squeezes Patrick’s shoulder.

“Great to see you too, but unfortunately you’ve arrived before,” Ray scans for a page in the binder, then points his fingers at some clause that none of them are privy to, “ _ Ideal presentation setting for guest arrival, _ so I’m going to have to politely ask you to go on a strolling tour of the property.”

His parents nod in understanding, knowing full well just whose instructions those are, and give Patrick kisses on the cheek before turning on their heels to leave.

“Patrick,” Ray waits until his parents are back out in the hallway, “Charles needs your help in the kitchen."

“That I can do,” Patrick nods and heads for the swinging doors. Of course Ray’s husband is already here.  He expects the kitchen to be bustling with a Met Gala catering fleet circa _Ocean's 8_ , but it’s just Charles. It smells warm and toasty, but the dishes are in heaps everywhere. Clearly he’s been working alone for much too long.

“Hey, Charles,” Patrick greets, somewhat shy. 

“Oh thank god it’s you,” Charles offers a familiar smile and a side of relief. “Mutt was supposed to come take the compost scraps to the chickens hours ago, but he seems to have _vanished_ into thin air.”

Patrick chuckles, pulling an apron off from the hook behind the door. “What can I do?” he asks.

“That’s my boy,” Charles claps his hands together and starts directing him around the kitchen. Patrick tries to hide the pride he feels in Charles' term of endearment. Since he first started going over to Ray and Charles’ for dinner after his first year at outdoor school, he’s been semi-adopted by the two of them. 

The two work together in tandem, while Patrick answers all Charles’ questions about graduation and school in September and Patrick’s general level of excitement about everything (yes to graduation and prom, even if there’s a little reluctance, and absolutely not to September). He tells Charles about the pact their friend group made once applications were due; how they know where everyone is going, but they’re not allowed to talk about it. At least he and David will be in the same place. 

As the compost pile diminishes and the food gets put out on serving trays, more and more classmates come in to help clean and bring things out onto the table. Amidst the constant swinging of the kitchen door, the main hall begins to slowly fill with more and more voices as parents and families slowly filter in.  After one last telltale squeak of the door, Patrick feels a nudge in his side. 

“You’re needed in Fireside,” Stevie says flatly, clad in a grey suit and chucks.

Patrick looks at the clock.  _ Shit. _ It’s almost time for the ceremony to start, which only means it’s that much closer to David’s speech, and Patrick hasn’t seen him since this morning. 

Patrick speedwalks through the hall, quickly waving to his parents and the Rose family. 

Fireside lounge is quiet, a small maze of display walls full of the art students’ final projects. Thankfully, no one has discovered it yet and the room seems to be empty. He looks past all the pieces; the pressed wildlife, the watercolours, and the portraits done in charcoal. Only one portrait of Patrick made it out of David’s sketchbook and into his final showcase; the one done in mixed media that includes the piece of birch bark Patrick gave him at the end of winter trip. The rest they can keep to themselves.

David is sitting in the window seat and staring out into the trees, wearing no evidence that he slept in the woods last night. He’s of course head to toe in Thom Browne, (Patrick knows this because Alexis reminded him of the name when he was at Rosewood for enchiladas on Sunday night) and Patrick’s never seen someone wear a skirt as well as him. It’s not an anomaly for David Rose to be staring dreamily off in the distance, but judging by the tight hold he has on his cue cards, Patrick can tell he’s in distress.

“Hey,” he says softly, placing a firm hand on David’s back. “How you doing?”

When David looks up, Patrick’s surprised to see his eyes full of tears. 

“It just hit me,” David says simply, his voice quiet and sure. He definitely isn’t on the verge of a panic attack. This is something else entirely. “How much I’m going to miss this place. How much it means to us. I-”

Patrick wordlessly leans down and takes David in his arms. That’s really all he needs to hear. David’s right. He feels a choking sob rise from David’s chest, then an even smaller voice says, “I got so caught up in the planning of this thing, I forgot what it was actually for.”

“I know,” Patrick kisses under his ear, then rubs his back. “But you’ve created something so beautiful David.”

“I don’t want to leave,” he chokes out.

Patrick leans back so he can look at David and those beautiful bloodshot eyes. “Neither do I,” he confesses.

They keep hanging onto each other until there’s a gentle knock at the door, and they look up to see Rachel waiting for them. Apart from her classic Birkenstocks, she's upgraded to a black jumpsuit and added dangly gold earrings.

“Parker’s here,” she leans on the door frame. “And if he doesn’t get a hug from either of you there’ll be hell to pay.”

Patrick chuckles before he takes a moment to brush away his and David’s tears, and with wide eyes they both suddenly remember that it’s the first time their families will be in the same place. Patrick makes a confident beeline for the hall with David following tentatively behind. 

Rachel’s little brother has his hands pressed tightly to his headphones and his face pinched together as he looks around the room, but once he notices them he starts waving his hands and runs to envelop Patrick in a hug. 

“Hey buddy!” Patrick squeezes Parker tight after he nearly crashes into him. “You ready to hear David make his speech to everyone?”

Parker looks up, green eyes sparkling with excitement. “Wow, David’s making a speech?!”

“I sure am,” David winces, probably trying to mask his nerves. 

“Yes!” Parker jumps up and down waves his hands before going in for a David hug. Patrick takes a second to admire how close they two of them have gotten over the past few months before scanning the rest of the room. His dad is chatting animatedly with Mrs. Rose, already seated at their table, while his mother comically watches their back and forth. Alexis sits besides David’s mom, trying to get the perfect instagram-worthy picture of the handmade centrepiece. (Why she hasn't found Ted yet is a mystery.) Of course there was nothing to be concerned about, everyone is getting along just fine. 

By now, most of their classmates have started sitting down with their parents, but there are more than a few chairs in their section that have gone unclaimed.  He feels Rachel tug his sleeve and lead him towards the tables. As they walk he catches a glance of Mr. Rose in the doorway, conversing with Stevie. They seem to be speaking in hushed tones, and Patrick watches him pass her a handkerchief as she brings it to her eyes. 

But before Patrick can turn to David and ask him what’s going on, the lights dim and there’s a tapping of a microphone. It’s something they’ll have to talk about later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Clint is in the Sunrise Bay fandom because I said so. 
> 
> We're almost there my pals! Thanks for sticking around in this world with me!


	7. Prom Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PROM 
> 
> (or at least the kind of prom you would have if you go to school in the woods)

Although it took quite some time to say goodbye to their families, they’ve finally been set free to join the rest of their class. The sun has almost sunk behind the trees, but the air is still pleasantly warm. After one last hug from Alexis, who somehow was able to bat her eyelashes at Twyla and get one of the flower crowns, David walks hand in hand with Patrick, past the main field and pool and towards the archway. As they step in perfect syncopation, he’s still reliving bits and pieces from their graduation ceremony.

_ When I first arrived here, I thought I had made a mistake.  _

The archway feels like his pièce de resistance; a structure he made with Tennessee out of dried driftwood and reeds, bound together and twisted into patterns. It’s massive. As they walk through it, Patrick slows down their pace to stop and admire the intricate detail David poured into it, fingers delicately tracing the dried grasses and pops of wildflowers. 

_ I thought I had signed up for a program that was art intensive, and had a good view. _

David watches Patrick take in every detail, his heart pounding in his chest. 

_ Turns out I was incredibly wrong, and nothing went as I planned. _

He watches Patrick look out into the valley below, where the tree-line is dotted with swooping festoon lights. In the centre of the field lies a giant bonfire, where their classmates are either dancing or roasting marshmallows.

_ I don’t normally do well with surprises, but everything that has happened here in the past two years… it’s something I’ve been incredibly grateful for.  _

Patrick turns to him, a grin peaking at the corner of his lips, then gently tugs David’s hand. He breaks out into a run down the hill, pulling David with him. He feels laughter bubble up and out, uninhibited. All the stress and anxiety leading up to this is quickly melting away. 

_ I have learned so much at Outdoor School, and gained so many beautiful friendships. _

Together they collide with Rachel and Twyla, who wrap them up in hugs and giggles. Twyla adorns them each with a flower crown.

_ This is where I feel safe. This is home.  _

David feels himself exhale for the first time in a while, taking in all that’s around them. Music blasts from a speaker sitting at the door to one of the cabins, thanks to a very long extension cord. (Once Roland set it up, he joined Ray and Ronnie to set up camp in the main hall.) The teachers won’t be coming out unless there’s an emergency, so the night belongs to them. Everyone reeks of bug spray and campfire, but in a way that’s comforting and familiar. And oddly enough, he wouldn’t have it any other way. There’s just one person who’s missing.

He scans over the bonfire, but Stevie is nowhere to be found. He turns to look towards the hill, and a small silhouette with flowing hair slowly stalks towards the archway. Quietly, he slips away from Patrick and the girls and races up the grassy knoll. 

“What are you doing?” Stevie quips, crossing her arms. Her blazer has been abandoned, her shirt a few more buttons loose, and sleeves rolled up to her elbows. She’s biting her lip, and she looks close like she’s close crying, but there’s something in her gaze that has softened. She doesn’t even bother to point out how out of breath David is.

“Is everything okay?" He pants, hand on his knees. "I thought you seemed upset earlier.”

“Mm yeah when my Aunt decided not to show up to my graduation? I’m over it.”

“No you’re not.”

“No, I’m not.”

David sighs and pulls her in for a hug. And today, Stevie doesn’t protest. He feels her sniff into his chest, then mumble something inaudible.

“Use your words please,” David pushes and holds her back at arms length. 

“Your dad said I’m staying at Rosewood for a while.”

“Why?” David’s eyebrows thread together. 

Stevie sniffs again, effectively avoiding his gaze. “I just got off the phone with Maureen.”

“Oh.”

“She left for Saskatchewan.”

“ _Oh_ ,” David’s face falls slack and he wraps his arms fiercely around her, immediately understanding all that is carried within that simple sentence. “You know I don’t do well with roommates, but for you I’d make an exception.”

Stevie chuckles wetly into his shirt, squeezing him tighter. “You better. You put my art up on your fucking bedroom walls.”

His head rests on top of hers as they start to sway slightly in the evening glow. David doesn’t know how to feel. It’s a mixture of joy and pride that he’s finished school and completed something he put his whole self into, but it’s also a means to an end.  He remembers something Rachel told him Patrick said to her, something about  _ “When did life become so real?”  _ He didn’t think anything of it at the time. To David and Stevie, things have always felt a little real, a little too much.

_ This is where I feel safe. This is home.  _

But he can only stay here holding on to Stevie for so long. She doesn’t do well with mushy. “Do you need to escape right now, or do you want to go join the party?” he whispers into her ear. 

“I need to not think for a solid five years.”

Wordlessly, David guides her down the hill. At this point, the class is unfolding and lighting up the paper lanterns they built that morning. A morning that seems like an entire year ago.

Patrick jogs up to them all smiles. “You guys ready?” he asks, holding an unlit paper lantern in his hands. David feels caught in the middle. When he dreamed of doing this, of course he dreamed about seeing Patrick on the other side of him, holding up a paper lantern with him, wearing a happy glow on his face. But his best friend needs him right now.

“Actually,” David clears his throat, “I think I need to do this with Stevie, I’m sorry.”

Patrick looks a little deflated and confused, but nods in understanding. He was, after all, the one that pulled up a chair for her between him and David at dinner after Maureen didn’t show.

“Are you sure about this?” Stevie whispers as they go to grab their own paper lantern. David nods profusely. Of course he’s sure.

David takes a piece of kindling from beside the fire and holds it under the block at the bottom of their lantern. It quickly catches the flame and gradually starts to pull towards the sky, anchored down by the light tugging of their fingertips. He looks across to Stevie, glassy-eyed and tired, but somehow still smiling back at him. David follows her gaze as she starts to look around to their classmates for a signal.

Suddenly, everything has reached a quiet stillness. Even Ted and Miguel have stopped bickering. Someone stopped the music, so there’s just the gentle hum of cicadas. It’s a collective holding of breath, as everyone awaits the possibilities that lie ahead, beyond high school. Sure, they still have summer. But right now, this marks a moment. A definite change.

“Everyone ready?” Twyla asks in a tentative, patient voice. 

“Fuck no,” Ted throws back. 

Half the group gasps, because this might be the first time they’ve heard Ted swear, while everyone else laughs in relief. 

Twyla counts them down from three, and fingertips are ever so slowly lifted off the feather light paper. They watch the sky above them slowly fill with floating dots of amber that rise upwards and drift to the northeast. They laugh when someone’s lantern gets caught in one of the trees. David bumps Stevie’s hip with his own, a proud smile on his face. And she smiles right back. It feels like some cheesy moment in a teen movie, but it’s a moment that’s all their own.

Once every lantern has drifted beyond the tree-line and and have become small dots in the night sky, someone rushes to crank the music. David watches everyone start to dance around him, lost under the glow of the bonfire. He catches Patrick’s eye and his heart skips a beat. They haven’t been properly alone since Patrick came to see him in Fireside before the ceremony. 

Patrick’s eyes are a glowing dark whiskey colour, and the way he’s looking at David is almost too cruel to reckon with. (In the best possible way). They share a small, soft smile between the two of them before David surges forward through the crowd of his classmates, and grabs Patrick by the hand. A devilish grin breaks out on Patrick’s face. David can tell how much he loves whenever they show the world how much they’re theirs. Patrick must think David just wants to dance together, because he seems a little stunned when David tugs him out of the dancing crowd and towards the trees.

David’s heart is in his throat. He wordlessly guides Patrick towards the small cabins on the outskirts of the field, winding around the corner to duck behind one of them.

“What are we-” Patrick’s sentence is cut off by David pinning him up against the cabin wall. The shadows from the festoon lights hanging above them dance on his face. It’s there where David kisses him soundly, trying to pour in all his feelings into a single gesture.

When he pulls back, Patrick is stunned. David feels the pull of strong hands on his hips, though Patrick’s face still might be buffering a bit. 

David takes a deep breath, and starts to feel the tears well up in his eyes. “I love you,” he whispers in the night.

For the slightest second, his brain spirals into thoughts of Patrick not having heard him, or potentially even laughing in his face. ( _ That’s how long you took to say it?? _ ) But no sooner can David begin to imagine all the different ways Patrick would react, does he get pulled firmly into Patrick’s space. 

“I love you, too,” Patrick says into his ear, and kisses that sweet spot just below it. 

And they cling onto each other, kissing and whispering soft secrets in each other’s ear. There might be endless waves of change on the horizon, but David knows that he’s capable. And Patrick is too. They all are. But for now, all he has to do is keep looking at what’s right in front of him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so ends the penultimate installment of Outdoor School! 🥰 Thank you to everyone who has kudos-ed, commented, or reached out to share your lovely thoughts throughout this series- I am so grateful!
> 
> I have one more outdoor school fic in the works, as well as a collection of lil snippets/missing scenes that may or may not see the light of day on ao3. If there is anything from this series that you didn't get the chance to see, feel free to send a prompt my way on tumbr! 
> 
> 🪵🪴🌸🍄🏕📓

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi on [tumblr](https://kindofspecificstore.tumblr.com/)!🌸


End file.
